


what she deserves

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is great at emotional support, Cunnilingus, Daisy's self esteem issues, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Make Daisy Happy, Romance, Tropical Vacation, not static quake friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson thinks Daisy deserves a lot of tiny umbrellas in her drink. He also thinks she deserves a lot of orgasms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what she deserves

 

“You know what? You were right about taking a break,” she says. “This is nice.”

“You deserve it,” Coulson says in a soft, matter-of-factly voice while he sips his drink. “You saved the world.”

She feels a nice warmth in her cheeks. It was also a good idea to come _with Coulson_. He can cheer her up better than anyone she knows. She only feels marginally bad that he has to be a shoulder to cry on (not literally, but there’s no _shoulder to relieve your stress on_ )

The drinking helps. No, not that way. She means - these cocktails are delicious. They are not drunk, either of them. Coulson seems a bit more loosen up than usual - she still couldn’t convince him to wear the colorful shirt _he_ had picked up at the airport on a whim. But sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned and smiling, yeah, at least he looks relaxed.

“What are you doing?” she asks, chuckling, when Coulson takes one of those little umbrellas from his drink and put it in her glass.

“I feel like you deserve more umbrellas in your drink,” he says.

Daisy doesn’t know why she finds that touching but she does.

“That’s me,” she says, feeling the kick of the cocktails. “A girl who deserves a lot of tiny umbrellas in her drink.”

“I think so.”

He is giving her a goofy smile, like it’s so obvious.

Well, it’s not obvious to her. She hasn’t been feeling much deserving of tiny umbrellas for a long time.

“Hey,” Coulson says, tilting his head in confusion, like Daisy had gone somewhere far away.

“Hey.”

“A break, remember?” he says. “Loosen up a bit.”

It makes Daisy chuckle a bit, the way he says it. She licks the last drops off the umbrella stick before they order a new round.

 

+

 

They play tropical vacation chicken for a while, all the way back to their hotel, until Coulson is finally the one to break the tie and kiss her against the door of his room, tasting of really sweet liquor, and Daisy opens her mouth and her heart to him and it’s like a big weight she’s been carrying for months has suddenly been dropped to the floor.

 

+

 

She bursts out laughing.

“That’s a good reaction,” Coulson comments, resting his chin on her thigh.

“No, no, it’s a good reaction,” she assures him. “Just… you should have probably shaved before this.”

He hasn’t shaved since they left DC and though it’s just stubble well, it tickles. Which is nice, but also distracting for a first time.

“You want me to shave now?” he asks.

“You’d do that for me?” she asks.

Coulson nods, sitting up. He runs his hand across his chin for a moment, checking she is right and he needs a shave. He goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open so Daisy can talk to him while he gets ready.

“Be careful,” she tells him. “You drank a bit.”

“I’m not using a razor, Daisy,” he says. 

“Oh.”

All her other boyfriends used razors - Miles even got pretty douchebag about it, ranting about his vintage model.

She hears the buzzing of the electric shaver.

“Sorry about the interruption,” she says, loudly, so that Coulson can hear her over the noise.

“It’s okay.”

She lies down on the bed, head on the edge, looking at him while he finishes up in the bathroom, in his shirt and underwear, looking so casual and confident.

“I feel like I’m seeing a new side of you,” she says.

Coulson smiles, touching his face to make sure it’s smooth enough.

“You’re just upside down,” he replies. “You still want to do this?”

Daisy sits up on the bed, making room for him. It’s very much like Coulson to ask (and she likes to be asked) but completely unnecessary in this case. She grabs his hand and pulls him into bed with her.

He grabs her leg and starts dropping little kisses on the inside of her thigh. A lot slower than before, a lot less dramatic than their make-outs against the door.

“Better?” he asks, pressing his smooth jaw against Daisy’s skin.

The contact with the just-shaved skin is even more electric than before and Daisy doesn’t reply, just lets a shiver run through her and throws one leg around Coulson’s back, drawing him closer.

He makes her come easily the first time, the buzz of alcohol still dulling the edge of everything in a pleasant way, in a way that makes Coulson’s tongue almost feel liquid against him, like getting off in the shower.

Coulson doesn’t stop, doesn’t demand something for him in turn. While Daisy trembles he pushes his tongue deeper, adding one finger easily, fucking her until Daisy feels a kind of fire every time she breathes. She comes a second time and a third time soon afterwards, taken her by surprise, prompted by Coulson carefully biting into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

“Wow. You love me a lot, don’t you?” she asks once she _can_. Sweaty, all the alcohol out of her body and her head, grinning like an idiot from too many endorphins all at once.

Coulson smirks a totally relaxed I-just-ate-you-out smirk. Not quite a love declaration, Daisy admits. But she likes it. And he does. Love her. A LOT. She’s been so caught up in getting people to accept her love all her life. and somewhere along the way she forgot she is supposed to get love as well.

“Do it again,” she asks him.

Show me how much you love me.

Coulson gazes up at her for a moment, considering her words, like he knows what she’s asking. Then he buries his face between her legs again, no questions, no doubt.

 

+

 

The heat, though nice, is a bit disconcerting for someone who is not used to warm nights. It’s better to talk through the night, she decides.

“I think your room is nicer than mine,” she tells him.

“Well, I’m the Director.”

She rolls over him, pinning his arms above his head. The pillow is damp from sweat - well, her sweat to be exact, from all the… uh… orgasms.

“That’s unfair.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

He closes his mouth around the curve of her throat for a moment.

“I want you to know…” he starts. Oh it sounds serious. He has his serious face on. She hadn’t noticed before, how cute it is. “I didn’t plan for this when I suggested we took a vacation together.”

She feels like laughing at the idea that Coulson might have planned to seduce her or take advantage. It’s so ridiculous that of course he has to clear it up. 

“I know that.”

“I just wanted you to feel good,” he tells her.

“Oh well I feel pretty good _right now_ , mmm.”

Coulson chuckles, freeing one hand and brushing Daisy’s hair off his face.

She’s thinking she can’t wait until tomorrow and having breakfast together and going to the beach and she’s thinking she’ll buy a dress and she’s excited at the idea of just hanging out with Coulson, like they always have, but a bit different now.

“Thank you,” she says, more seriously now. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he assures her.

And Daisy knows that. And Coulson can’t know how important that is to her.

She lets go off him and snuggles up against his chest, drawing his knees towards her.

“Can I really stay here?” she asks. To be sure.

“As long as you want,” Coulson replies, playing with her hair.

“It’s too hot to sleep,” Daisy says, running her fingers across his ribcage. She’s not sure it’s okay for her to touch his scar yet so she keeps all the caressing to the sides and his stomach, just in case.

“I know. We could talk.”

“About what?”

Coulson thinks about it for a moment.

“Have you read any good books lately?” he asks.

She laughs. “When was the last time you had time for a book? We’re SHIELD.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. May brought me _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo_ when I was in the hospital recovering.”

Daisy doesn’t want to think about their latest injuries too much. They survived. She got them out alive. That’s enough.

“Sounds like something May would make you read, yep.”

“Yeah,” Coulson agrees, moving his hand from Daisy’s hair to her shoulder, shifting into a more comfortable position. Preparing for sleep. She can actually feel the vibrations of every muscle in his body slowing down, just as clearly as she hears his heart calming down as well. “I only watch the movie.”

“Which version?” Daisy asks.

“The one with James Bond,” Coulson tells her.

"I saw the other one."

They keep talking about stupid irrelevant crap until they fall asleep.

 

+

 

“Is this a bit creepy to you?” she asks.

They are walking along the beach.

And this whole tropical set-up, it occurs to her that Coulson might be reminded of some unpleasant stuff. She has been so up in her own stuff - and Coulson has been so… well, great and a trooper, cheering her up - that she hadn’t even worried about that until now.

“Because of-?”

“Bad memories, yeah.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But…”

“There are other tourists here,” Coulson says. “As long as no one says this is a magical place I’ll be okay.”

Daisy twists her hands into his shirt - she finally got him to wear this monstrosity - and stops him, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly possessive of him.

“And I’m here to protect you from bad stuff,” she says.

She hugs him from behind as they reach the waterline, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Thanks. I feel much safer now.”

It sounds like a funny remark but it’s not, he means it.

They walk like that for a while - awkwardly, laughing when they end up staggering.

Daisy wonders if she should be worried they haven’t had sex yet. Well, they have had sex (technically she has), just not - just not what Daisy would have traditionally qualified as having had sex. She’s not exactly lamenting that Coulson went down on her for what seemed to her _hours_ while he only “took care” of himself once - while he was eating her out and Daisy thought that was one of the most erotic things she had seen, strangely, Coulson jerking himself off while he fucked her with his tongue. But things haven’t escalated yet and in the morning she got the feeling Coulson was being a bit too shy. Not like he wanted to cool it off. More like he wanted them to take their time. And as nice as the idea is Daisy is wired to panic whenever things are not fast fast fast.

When the sun starts going down they sit on the cooling sand, Coulson behind her, and Daisy between his legs, pressing her back against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder, disgustingly sweet and postcard picture but Daisy loves it. Coulson is playing with her hair again and Daisy is beginning to suspect he has a thing for it.

“I’d never been to a tropical place,” she tells him, looking at the sunset. “I thought it would be a let down but it’s just as impressive as everyone says.”

“Yes, it is,” Coulson agrees, kissing the back of her neck. He runs one hand slowly along her leg, pressing his fingers against the fabric of the light dress she bought in the hotel shop. With his other hand he’s holding hers, threading their fingers together. Daisy vaguely wonders if his prosthetic is sensitive enough, but then decides that if it doesn’t matter to Coulson then it doesn’t matter to her.

For a moment she’s happy. This place has completely different vibrations to what she’s used to, and her body leaps at the new sensations, her powers make her tingle just by being here. She can feel Coulson’s body humming behind her at the same time as she can feel the the exact tune of the waves crashing against the sand in front of them.

Coulson keeps on nibbling on her nape.

“That’s nice,” she comments, wanting to be appreciative.

He blows hot breath on her shoulder blade, pushing the bra strap aside to get to the sensitive bit. It tickles a little and then he drops one single kiss on the spot. When he finishes with her left shoulder he lifts his head, nuzzling the back of Daisy’s ear lazily.

“There’s going to be more of this when we get back home, right?” she asks, suddenly scared, irrationally so, that this all will be over as soon as their flight touches DC again.

Coulson closes his lips around the shell of her ear.

“Oh much more,” he whispers, a promise.

“Good,” she decides. “Because saving the world is good and all. But I think I deserve this.”

She’s never said something like that out loud, let alone to another human being.

“You do,” Coulson tells her. His body tenses imperceptibly - imperceptibly except for someone with earthquake powers. “You always deserved it. Even when you weren’t getting it.”

That quiet voice is the closest Coulson has come to criticizing past failed relationships, or rather lifting the blame from her and putting it where it belongs.

Daisy takes his prosthetic hand and brings it against her mouth, kissing his palm.

“Thank you,” she says.

This time he accepts her thanks.

 

+

 

That night after a really full dinner with the rest of the guests - Coulson and her pretended to be newlyweds and watched people’s reactions with delight - they go back to her room and Coulson drops to his knees in front of her.

“You are going to sprain your tongue,” Daisy jokes as he pulls her dress above her hips and presses his mouth to the fabric of her underwear. “And then how are you going to explain your injuries to Doctor Simmons?”

Coulson looks up. “With pride,” he replies.

“Coulson,” she calls. “You know you’re not-”

“A rebound?” he fills. He’s half-smiling at her. “I know. Don’t worry.”

“But I want you to kno-”

“Daisy,” he stops her, pressing one kiss to her hipbone. “Relax. No need to hurry.”

She nods at him.

Perhaps it’s good that he’s told her to wait. She doesn’t need to say the words yet. She can take her time. She’s never thought of waiting before, with other people. I love you was something to do quickly (like taking off a band-aid, in a way) and with a purpose. She loves Coulson (always has, in a way), but it’s a relief, not feeling like she needs to say it right now because he _needs_ to hear it.

They have left the big french windows open because the night is so hot, and there’s moonlight pouring all over them and the floor, in a very romantic way and all that stuff, and Daisy runs her fingers through Coulson’s hair, stroking his head the whole time.

Again they don’t technically have sex that night. They sleep without bedsheets and she gets to be the little spoon, falling asleep while Coulson tells her - _sneaky_ \- that he loves her.

 

+

 

She buys him some tacky sunglasses at the airport and Coulson, bless his heart, wears them until they arrive in DC.

It’s only been a couple of days but Daisy finally agrees with him: she deserves a lot of tiny umbrellas in her drink.


End file.
